


To Someone Who'll Find Me

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurora is a prisoner princess who dreams of more. Mulan is Mulan, the loveable princess rescuer. </p>
<p>Alternative Universe with Aurora also playing the part of Rapunzel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Someone Who'll Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by two particular pieces from Disney's Sleeping Beauty soundtrack: “A Cottage In The Woods” and “Once Upon A Dream”. Basically Tchaikovsky, it is worth listening to, if you got the time. 
> 
> As I always mention: English is not my first language, any mistake whatsoever, even if it is not of grammatical nature, please add it to a comment below. It would be very, very appreciated. 
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy!

A proper lady should be quiet, lovely and good; that way, her dreams come true, for the fates are kind to those who wait. But this solicitude is turning her taciturn; it irks her, for without company she suspects she will die of ennui. It is not the best destiny she can think of, and it is certainly not what she desires. She has been quiet, lovely and good for a long time, and she is tired of waiting for her true love to appear, brave and gallant on a horse that can talk. It is at that moment when she wonders if the walls are as literal as Maleficent pretended. She is prisoner of her own imaginings. 

Her sole divertimenti is music, she sings and sings, at twilight and at dawn, for someone ought to be listening to her merry melodies; someone ought to return the songs to her, a compassionate and daring soul who dances the same rhythm she does, who understands her heart and returns her love with the same intensity. A princess can dream. 

Today, she is impatient, indifferent to whoever passes in front of her jail and attempts to free her. This day, the day she ceased her singing, she sees an armour-clad man in the vicinity of the tower. He crosses the fields, feeding his dark horse on a small pond before proceeding, his intentions clear: He comes for her. She observes, willing to hurl rocks and any object in sight to the supposedly chivalrous male if he is like the others so-called gentlemen who came before him; not actively searching for more disappointments. 

The man settles on the ground just below her window, unaware of the princess' judgement. He walks around the tower, possibly looking for stairs or a door, Aurora begins to doubt his intelligence as he repeats the action two times until he seems to be confident there is no entrance. Finally, when Aurora thinks he might never catch on, the man discovers the window and her presence as he studies his surroundings. 

“What name do you go by, travelling stranger?” She inquires, not even bothering to hide her distrust, as she gazes upon the sole window of the tower and at the unknown knight. She would have the first word. 

“Hua Mulan!” She hears the knight scream, his name was not what she expected, for Laurence or Arthur would be fairer names, but she finds herself to be very pleased at the intonation; it was strong, so sure of himself he was, her rescuer. The moniker resounds inside the walls of the tower as Aurora repeats it thrice, sighing when the worry in her chest subdues. What a peculiar given name, it is certainly not from these lands, and it makes her giddy to think that this particular knight travelled through oceans and deserts just to free her. 

She ponders what she ought to do next, the taken course of action is sure to change everything; she must not risk being taken for a fool. She keeps the man waiting, silently passing her only room, thinking about what she must do now. He might be a thief, ready to steal her jewels and do her harm. She will not be deceived; she clutches the scissors on the adjoining piece of furniture, sharp and potentially deadly. Prepared for what may come, she addresses the knight. 

“I will let you climb!” 

The man spreads his arms wildly in sign of disapproval. 

“Do not bother, princess, it is you who ought to be freed!” 

“Then I will throw myself off the window!” 

She sounds as frustrated as she feels, and this reaches the expecting warrior. 

Aurora knows, judging the posture her rescuer adopts, that he did not know if the princess was serious or not. He appeared to be considering walking closer to the tower, before retreating back to his black stallion. It amuses Aurora that he might have considered to catch her as she fell. Not a bright one, her knight. 

Concealing the scissors in her clothes, Aurora scans her confines for a last time. The satin sheets over her bed, tidy as it could be; the vivid colour of the walls, she always loved purple and blue, it felt very regal and sober, though somewhat childish; her brushes and pins, the withered flowers for her to adorn herself in the waiting, all resting under a medium-sized mirror attached to the wall in front of her bed, and on top of a commodore; the wardrobe packed with dresses, one more scandalous than the other, all covered with feathers or sparkles, making sure she never went unnoticed; there was food on a cupboard close to the closet, with not as much food as she would have liked, she had to make amends with what she had until Maleficent brought more, the same day each month; a bookcase adorned with novels she already read from the beginning to the end, forward and backwards, Maleficent did not gift her books anymore, she asked too many questions after reading them; last but not least, a trunk full of trinkets, pilled at the corner of the small bedroom, filled with everything Aurora found charming enough to treasure. It was a pretty prison, but a prison nonetheless. She would not walk away only in dreams; it was time to make it true. 

Aurora barely avoids falling head first into the ground, stepping over the long tail of hair tied to the inside of the window. She cut it months ago, pretending to use it as means of escape; the very long and thick strands were surely sufficient and made a decent rope, years of captivity resulting into something favourable for its growing rate and care. Caressing her shoulder-length hair idly, she ties part of the hair-rope to her right forearm, the silky texture tickling her as she jumps without any previous warning, wide-eyed as she sees the distance between her and the ground. Closer and closer she is to reaching her goal, stopping frequently with her feet before she achieves a precarious speed. Her forearm itches, as she steps in front of the man and his horse, walking steadfast, for she was not going to show weakness no matter how dizzy she felt at the moment. 

“Why—” he starts, but Aurora interrupts him with a wave of her slightly bruised hand; the contrast of her naturally pale skin against the irritation would have made another one flinch, but a warrior was used to seeing worse injuries. 

“I had no reason to do so, I only knew this world had misery and suffering, I did not want to be part of it.” Aurora says, eyes on her skirt, which had taken the greatest amount of damage and was thorn on a side, some of the adornments floating with the wind. “The men that arrived before you were not particularly noble; they did not show me the beauty of this world.” She shudders; the weather was meaner than what she initially thought. She was accustomed to cower under the covers when the winds from the north claimed the landscape. Living stories on her own for the first time, though intimidating, it is also exciting, she feels herself tingle at the simplest of outdoor experiences; the grass, the smells, even the sun, she witnesses all in new light, and nothing ever seems minuscule or unimportant. 

“It is nice then, that I am no man,” the warrior says, removing his helmet, dropping it to the ground with a loud thud. 

Aurora holds her breath, her hands covering her mouth; she would finally gaze upon the face of the bold champion from far off lands, the one truly polite and gallant. So overjoyed she is, that she does not pay mind to the woman's statement in her blissful condition, that is till the dull sound of the headdress wakes her from her dreamy state. 

The first thing she spots is her eyes, so unusual but utterly striking, a completely new feature, their brown colour calm and thoughtful, suiting their owner perfectly; her darker skin tone and small scars tell tales of prowess she cannot wait to hear; her hair is up is some sort of bun, a style she has never seen before, similar to a dragon's tail. Her lips are pursed, but her expression has a hint of amusement, maybe Aurora has been staring longer than what the warrior deems appropriate. 

“A woman?” It is the only thing she can say, flabbergasted but enchanted by her saviour. Looking pass the armour, she is at last in front of a person, and she likes what she sees; she is sure she made it painfully obvious. 

“Indeed.” Yes, she is positively laughing of her inability to form full sentences, Aurora thinks. However, the warrior suddenly turns gloomy; bothered by something, Aurora imagines. She is about to pick back her helmet from the dirt, but is stopped by Aurora. “No, please, do not think I mind!” Aurora speaks quickly, keeping the heavy helmet close to her chest, wanting to prevent its use again; she wants to see the woman who helped her, who saved her, not a dreary knight. “It is surprising, that is all.” She is not aware there were women warriors, the concept was foreign to her, but she approved any way of gaining individuality and independence. 

“I am relieved,” the woman confesses with a sigh and a tiny smirk, whistling to her horse. The steed attends the call immediately, galloping towards them. The woman crosses a leg to one side of her animal companion, stretching a hand in Aurora's direction. The princess takes it without second thoughts, locking her arms in the front of the woman's armour as she gets balance. She blushes wildly at the position she is in, her legs to both sides of the horse, her arms secure around someone else's chest. She is ecstatic, it is an unfamiliar but comforting sensation; she is open to new experiences, knowing the theory is not nearly the same as putting it to practice, and she is very sick of illustrations portraying the life she could be living at the moment. 

They ride away from the tower; the shinning mid-day sun makes it impossible to keep looking as they get farther and farther. Their travel is not full of conversations. They were both overwhelmed, Aurora supposed, but between shy glances and awkward pauses, Aurora remembers a question she had hoped to ask after leaving her prison. She has to know more about this astonishing warrior, such mystery was nice for a while, but it had to stop or she would go mad with expectations. She takes what chance she gets when they stop for a rest, the stallion drinking from a passing current, the woman silently taking a place near the animal and splashing her face with the water. 

“Does your adventure have a purpose?” Aurora blurts, not at all ashamed by her bluntness. 

“Rescue you, princess; for I know tales of your misery and wish to guard you back home.” The woman does not hesitate as she responds, patting the steed's snout softly. 

“And why, O noble knight, you would desire to do such thing?”Aurora questions playfully, sitting next to her, seemingly satisfied by the cooperation of the other, her dress pooling around them, part of her left thigh showing as she is unable of fix what ripped during her fall. 

“I've heard of your beauty, but it was your wit and passion what caught me off my horse.” Aurora cannot see her; however, she is confident she is smiling cockily. “Oh,” blood rushes to her face, making it redder than the marks on her arm, “In that case, brave warrior—” 

She gives the woman a small peck on the cheek, retreating from this unknown battlefield before she does something she later regrets. She is mortified, which is the reason why the kiss feels so incredibly impersonal. With her saviour stoically still, almost statue-like, she tries again; seeing this as another opportunity. It is not as satisfactory, less unintentionally harsh but not quite what she is looking for. The last peck is too close to the corner of the other woman's mouth, Aurora notes. She turns away, playing with the remaining feathers on her dress, taken aback when the warrior places her gloved hand on hers. 

The silent feels welcomed, it does not alter their unspoken discovery, and it makes them breathe with content as they wait for the horse to repose. Imitating the other's gesture, Aurora caresses the horse's leg; this warrior's companion deserves all the respect and water it deems necessary. 

“Have you done this before?” Aurora inquires, her gaze on the horse, giddy at the liking the animal appears to feel towards her as it lowers its head for her to pet. 

“What are you referring to, princess?” the woman asks, burrowing her eyebrows in confusion. 

“Rescuing princesses,” she explains, hotly, slightly embarrassed for a reason she does not quite understand. The misinterpretation is too overwhelming to put into thoughts, let alone words. 

“No, this is my first time,” the warrior admits, her expression unreadable. “I wanted to prove myself worthy of my title, travelling across lands and facing dangers was what I thought a warrior would do.” She stands, motioning Aurora to follow her back on top of the stallion; it is getting dark, and Aurora agrees with the decision. “I heard of your story during my stay in an inn, the rest is not as exciting as you would hope,” she adds as they go across a field of flowers, some of which tangle in Aurora's locks. 

“Well, I am glad,” Aurora comments, tentatively resting her chin on the other woman's shoulder, enjoying the sensation of comfort when the warrior accepts the action, straightening her back. “It was good for a first try, warrior.” 

“You may call me Mulan, princess,” the woman offers, almost inaudible. Aurora does not know if it is due to the wind or to some protocol she has forgotten. 

“Then you ought to refer to me as Aurora,” she says immediately, turning slightly to face Mulan better as she nods. 

It is pleasurable, to be like this, Aurora thinks; to rejoice in the deepest silence, as it were the honeyed prose of a poet with talent to spare, as if the act of breathing was by itself the testament of the connection of their souls. It feels utterly ridiculous to quiver for an individual unknown hours ago. By all means, the kinship of their spirits and utmost beings cannot be uncared for, she will indulge herself for the sake of her sanity and need for true companionship, for memories will be the trail Mulan will leave on her life; a beautiful tale of what-ifs, the sole console of a soon to be queen. 

“What will you do?” Mulan enquires, noticing Aurora's mortuary stiffness. 

“Face Maleficent, the witch making the people of my kingdom suffer, then take my place as queen,” is the rehearsed reply that comes out. 

Queen Aurora, not a title she aspired to get, it is what ought to be done for her land. She can transform the kingdom into a wonderful place to live in, even for her, though she will miss the swordswoman dearly, to the point of not wanting her to depart. Attachments like this are dangerous, she was told, but this does not feel like an error of ways. “You will be given treasure beyond your imagination when we reach the castle,” she says, her tone flat, she does not want to believe in the possibility of never seeing this courageous woman again. 

“What do you mean?” Mulan sounds as confused as she was when the revealing of the warrior's identity reached its conclusion, although not as delighted. Once more, she desires to express herself explicitly, to avoid any misunderstanding; Yes, without decorum, say everything that ought to be said, before this woman abandons her sight to rescue another princess in a cottage on the woods, and lives happily ever after with the lack of restrictions bestowed on the peasants. No, Mulan does not look like the kind of woman who would run away from responsibility, that and much more she admires. 

A high jump of the stallion forces Aurora to hold tighter to Mulan's waist, mouthing a ball of hair and pressing her face against the hardness of the armour, her eyes wide-open. She recovers quickly, before Mulan can glace behind her; the least she needs right now is to be the ridicule of a woman she admits want to impress with tales of her sovereignty, anything to convince her to stay after she has dealt with Maleficent. 

“Well, you will take me to the castle, will you not?”Demanding or requesting, she cannot say; in her eyes, the qualm debases her character for the other.

“Of course, princess,” Mulan is about to continue, but Aurora's expressions makes her realise her mistake. “Aurora,” she corrects herself, “I will not abandon you at castle door, I will fight this witch by your side.” 

“Maleficent will discover that I have escaped, you will not be safe, not matter what kingdom you choose to hide in.” 

“That is interesting, because I have no desire to run.”

Aurora had to warn her, and she did, she listened to her conscience; her thoughts may be free of guilty, in the interim. Whereas her principles predicted the selflessness of Mulan, she can only wonder; they indubitably guaranteed that her judgement of Mulan had been correct, she was hope. 

“You have a death-wish,” Aurora says, her smile betraying her thoughts. “A battle against the forces of evil, is that what you are looking for?”

“Adventure, but one tends to follow the other,” Mulan quips, grinning, there is a flush on her face that Aurora knows she shares with her; it is excitement, sweat, love, the pureness of freedom. She cannot wait for what the future holds for them, and they will figure it out before destiny itself passes the pages of his all-knowing book. They will write history. 

“I will help you, Aurora; we will reclaim your lands.” It is an unsubtle oath. 

Aurora nods as she bats the moisture off her lashes, resting her cheek on Mulan's broad shoulder. They will defeat Maleficent and return her kingdom to its former glory. The plea for justice will be answered; they will yield a sword with entwined fingers. Maleficent will fall. Rightful queens have arrived to take their throne. This, Aurora is certain of, as sure of it as she is of the moon and the dawn. 

Dusty brow and rough hands, ready wit and an honest heart, this woman was the most unusual prince, and Aurora could not be happier when recalling that fact.


End file.
